


Birds

by misslonelyhearts



Series: Identity Unknown:  An Overwatch One Shot Collection [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Polyamory, implied rope-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslonelyhearts/pseuds/misslonelyhearts





	Birds

The fucking darts.    
  
He makes a mental note to  _ encourage _ someone at Talon get to work on a goddamn antidote, or at least rip off the formula.  It’s only fair.   
  
His mouth is dry.  Drier than normal.  Squinting around in the blistering sun, Gabriel sees the swerving terracotta cliffs of a canyon, and the busted remnants of a train.  The Gorge.     
  
Amari and the boy scout have left him tied to the diner’s front post.   They left him a comm.  They left him alive to sweat out his poisonous rage.  They left his mask just out of reach.  They just. . . left him, like a snack for later.  Or worse, not worth the bullet.   
  
It isn’t the first time his old friends have tied him up, rendered him helpless, and for such righteous little shits it’s a pretty gruesome play on a good memory.  For a second, he’s proud of them for grabbing the void with both hands.   
  
“I remember liking this a lot more last time” he croaks out loud.       
  
“There’s a last time for everything,” Ana replies in his earpiece.    
  
They’re watching.    
  
“And I couldn’t do this before.”  He summons the wraith, the tatters of his power that are just coming out from under the dope.  Nylon rope slithers to the hot pavement beneath a violet haze.     
  
Re-materializing, Gabriel stalks the perimeter of the diner, searching for weapons, clues, surveillance.   
  
“You were always into this kind of thing.  Right, Jack?” He comes back around the front of diner and heads for a pickup truck with a bed full of junk. On the way, he scoops his mask out of the dust.  “Never met a rope you didn’t like.  Really got you soaked.  And now? Are you sweating?”   
  
“I’m dry as toast,” Jack grumbles over the comm.  “But keep going.  Watchin you stroke your ego is really taking me back.”   
  
Gabriel opens the truck door.   
  
“The only thing getting stroked out here is Amari’s ticker,” he drawls.  “You staying out of the sun, little bird?”   
  
On the passenger seat sits a rusty toolbox.   
  
“I am right where I need to be,” Amari replies, voice as lovely and imperious as ever.  “On top of you.”   
  
Gabriel fishes a socket wrench out of the toolbox, flips it once, twice, and turns to use the diner’s broken picture window as a mirror.   
  
“Good, good.  Keep your eyes on me, Anita.” He pauses, mask in hand, and a dry chuckle escapes his lips. “Eye.”   
  
“Don’t fucking call her that.”     
  
“Yes,  _ sir _ ,” spits Gabriel, looking at the ghost staring back at him in the window.  “You liked that, too, last time.  Calling me  _ sir _ .  At my feet.”   
  
They go quiet on the comm, and Gabriel strains to hear breathing, bird calls, anything to give away their position.   
  
Several painful twists later, his mask sits securely over the remains of his face.  He pulls his hood forward and takes to the weatherbeaten road with long strides, picking up speed with the thrill of the hunt chasing down his limbs.   
  
“Got a long day ahead of you, viejos,” Gabriel says.  “Try to keep up.”   
  
Under an unforgiving sun, far from any forest cold or deep, the sooty owl stretches his wings.  He flies along the canyon walls, pursued, watching for the shadows of a shrike and a golden eagle.


End file.
